Check out this totally righteous press clipping from the June issue of all-around awesome ladies’ mag BUST! Proof positive that them feminizzle jawns stay loving the d!PS, I would just like to let it be known that Kathy Griffin is so motherfucking Ligerbeat it’s not even funny. Coincidence? We think not.

Okay, dear Beaters. Let me just clear up any potential confusion on this subject before your pervy lil’ gears get to spinnin’ by stating that I am in no way shape or form into getting peed on. I may be submissive but I prefer to keep my showers clear, not golden. If you’re one of those girls who gets off on walking around with your man’s piss in your hair, more power to you, but Crackie don’t play that.

That being said, it has always sort of fascinated me that most men are totally unafraid to drain the snake in public, popo and passersby be damned. It’s right up there with dudes drinking milk straight from the carton, opening beer bottles with lighters, switching lanes while switching gears, and other things that I am perfectly capable of doing myself but would rather see done by a meaty pair of (preferably heavily tattooed) forearms. If that makes you mad, like maybe you’re feeling like you want to take away my feminizzle card, then so be it, but I want no part in any club that doesn’t let me trick men into doing physical labor for me. Fuck outta here with that mess, I got nails to maintain, ya heard?

But back to the splatter at hand. Shit is masculine as fuck. I mean, think about it. The ease with which they assume that solid, legs-slightly-parted stance; the blatant disregard to catching a public urination charge (no small potatoes here in New York, where violators are required to register as sex offenders); and the fact that you know they’re touching their dick, albeit in a completely nonsexual context: all of these things make me feel all warm and fuzzy in my no-no place.

And then at the same time, there’s a vulnerability factor there that can’t be overlooked. Standing there, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, lost in the relief of emptying a probs booze-filled bladder–they’re totally immersed in the euphoria of the pee. That combination of fierceness and susceptibility is, if you think about it, one of the most lovable occurrences in nature. (For the record, I think girls who are ballsy enough to drop trou under the wild blue yonder are also rad as fuck, but since this is a blog about how much we love dick, I’ll leave that one to another time and place.)

I’ve talked to some other ladies about whether or not this particular interest qualifies me for legit creep status. Calisha Jenkins, for example, does not see the appeal. But I’ve heard tell of other chicks who are equally fascinated, if not more so. So, with that in mind, I bring you the first in a series of original photographs meant to objectify dudes taking leaks (because, after all, we are female chauvinists if nothing else). What do you think, girls? Gross? Hot? Leave it in the comments, yo.

A few years back, I was broing down with some bros and the conversation meandered towards giving girls facials. One of my boys was totally aghast at the idea of crop dusting his special lady friend’s face, and couldn’t understand how a righteous feminizzle bitch such as yours truly would want to get down with something he perceived as being so inherently degrading to women.

I’ve heard others echo this sentiment since then, and it never ceases to amaze me how some people think that one’s world view must also dictate one’s sexual inclinations. There are powerful CEO’s who like getting tied up and whipped by dominatrixes and black militants who enjoy dabbling in a little milk of magnesia–so why wouldn’t there be feminists who like to catch a load to the chin every once in a while? I mean, I understand that the physical act of coitus is more of a cut-and-paste operation for some than others, but come on. It’s a little spilled seed. Are we really gonna split hairs here?

By this point, perhaps you have inferred that I am a pretty big fan of bukkake. Not like crazy group jerk sessions onto my face while my eyelids are held open by clamps. There will be none of that, have you ever gotten jizz in your eye? It feels like someone just punched you directly in the facial. And not in a good way either. No, I’m talking about a good old-fashioned body drenching. There is just something so satisfying about seeing a huge load sittin’ pretty on my boobage after a job well done. A new pearl necklace? For me? Aw shit baby, you shouldn’t have!

To me, a skeet skeeted into a condom is a skeet skeet wasted. I mean, mutual orgasms are cool and all but I’m deathly afraid of getting knocked up before I’m good and goddamned ready, so even when there’s a condom in play, I get easily spooked thinking about what would happen if it broke mid-nut. I’d much rather feel the splooge hit my skin and know instantly that no babies were conceived in the making of this sexual encounter.

It also enables me to really get in there and gauge the intensity of orgasm, based on speed of projection, trajectory arc, and volume. Plus, I am the kind of person who needs closure–the more visceral, the better–and this, to me, is a guy’s way of saying, “Here, take this little present special from me to you for being such a hot ass motherfucking sexual goddess.” And I ain’t mad at that. I’m really not.

However, there is definitely some post-spattering etiquette that I feel needs to be addressed here. Most guys will give you a haphazard dry rub with whatever towel or t-shirt is handy. Some will just leave you to your own devices and wander off to the bathroom to wash their nuts. Some will hand you a crusty sock from up off the floor and laugh sheepishly. Shut up, it has happened to the best of us, or at least to those of us who have fucked with a stoner punk dude…or seven.

What the fuck is up with that shit? I’m sayin’. Feel free to take a minute to look at the map of Hawaii you just spilled on my stomach, but fuck’s sake. I just worked that party puddle out of your body with my body, maing. Wipe me down already! (A-wipe me down.) On that note, I have decided that the day a man lovingly sops up his goo from my chest with a clean, hot, moist towel is the day that I start giving up the buttsex.